


Royale

by Moondog



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Bottom Bucky, Established Relationship, Floor Sex, Gags, HYDRA Trash Compactor Challenge, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Bottoms, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sex Pollen, Stark Industries, Suit Sex, Top Steve, Up all night to get Bucky, high supersoldiers don't know their own strength, property damage, steve is very concerned about privacy, though this isn't really trash at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3452915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moondog/pseuds/Moondog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once, they were not going to be the only sober ones at a Stark Industries shareholder gala. Bucky would make sure of it. </p><p>Rampant sex and property damage ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Royale

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [stoatsandwich's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stoatsandwich/pseuds/stoatsandwich) [February Hydra Trash Compactor](http://stoatsandwich.tumblr.com/post/109741725441/the-february-hydra-trash-compactor-premise) prompt, though not particularly trash-like itself.
> 
> There's one brief judgy comment about food and weight - I didn't think it was worth tagging for, but it's in there, if that's a concern.

Bucky finished tying his bowtie and went to look for Steve. He found him sitting on the bed, dejectedly fitting tuxedo studs into his shirt. 

"I hate this," Steve said. 

"I know." 

"I wish we didn't have to."

"I know."

They rode the elevator down to where a limo was waiting. The event was in a fancy hotel uptown, and the limo dropped them off right in front. Steve let out a sigh, and took Bucky's hand. 

"Let's get this overwith," he said. He tugged Bucky out his side of the limo and onto the sidewalk. 

Their patent leather shoes tapped out their steps as they approached the hotel hand in hand. Bucky could hear music and laughter through the hotel's open doors, and could see chandeliers sparkling, servers flitting back and forth with trays of champagne. They must have taken over the whole ground floor. Steve turned to look at him. 

"You ready?" 

Bucky put his free hand in his pocket and felt the vials of purple liquid there. Two little vials, one apiece. He smiled. 

"You bet."

 

**Four weeks ago**

"Stand back."

"Tony -"

"I'm serious, Barnes. We don't know how they left this place, and I don't want to have to explain to Captain America why his boyfriend doesn't have a face anymore. Get back."

Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Fine. But if it's really that bad, an extra ten feet won't do shit." 

He backed around the corner to join Sam and Natasha, just in time to hear the blast as Tony used his repulsor to blow the doors off the lab. 

A cloud of dust and debris poured around the corner. Bucky fumbled for his goggles; out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam doing the same. Natasha was already striding towards the gaping hole in the wall, and Bucky and Sam followed. 

"Man, what was Hydra doing with this one?" Sam asked, waving the dust away from his face.

"Philters, it looks like," Tony said. "Serums, tonics, ointments. Am I right?"

"A poison lab, then?"

"More or less," Bucky said, "But not just to kill - they were experimenting with different ways to incapacitate people. Killing people is one thing, but when you've shown someone that you can make them temporarily blind, or make their teeth fall out with just an injection, they'll give you whatever you want. They're yours."

"Nothing like creative torture," Natasha said. She shuffled through a pile of documents on a desk, and examined a few dusty beakers. "Looks like they bailed on this place at least a year ago." 

"Well, good," Tony said. He'd lifted the mask of his suit, and was now opening drawers, rummaging around in the vials and bottles he found. He looked over at Bucky. "You recognize anything?"

"I've seen a couple labs like this," Bucky said. "They're filled with all kinds of fun stuff." Bucky pulled the drawer nearest him out of its tracks and set it on the table. He picked out a bottle of green goo.  "This one induces migraines." He picked up another bottle, full of something viscous and faintly yellow. "I remember this one - topical; makes your skin feel like it's on fire. Good times watching that one get tested, let me tell you. This one -" he squinted at the purple liquid through his tinted goggles. "Some of the lab techs used to steal this one for recreational purposes." 

Sam snorted a laugh at that, and said, "I'm not sure I want to know what Hydra scientists would consider recreational. We taking all these back with us for analysis, or what?"  

"Damn straight we are," said Tony.

 

It wasn't a charity event. Bucky was all right with charity events - their pomp and circumstance, while not always what he enjoyed, were for a good cause. At charity events, people dressed up and threw money around to help other people. But this was a Stark Industries shareholder gala, which was, if anything, the exact opposite of a charity event - this was just rich people patting themselves on the back for being rich. Bucky knew that Pepper held these events with an ulterior motive that ultimately benefitted him: make the shareholders feel important, and they won't raise a stink about Stark's less conventional work (ie, The Avengers). But that meant that these same shareholders felt entitled to see The Avengers up close and in person now and again - like the team was some kind of superhero zoo; Stark Tower's pet freaks. Pepper and Tony couldn't avoid asking the team to show up every once in a while, and on nights like tonight, they grudgingly obliged.

Most of them, anyway. Bruce didn't have to come because he made people nervous, and Thor got out of going whenever he happened to not be on Earth. 

As for the rest of them - Natasha knew how to act at these things, of course, but she didn't much enjoy them when there was no intelligence to gather, and she always disappeared soon as she could. Clint tended to spend most of his time either lurking behind potted plants or spilling drinks on himself, and whether or not the clumsiness was intentional, it worked like a charm to keep too many people from talking to him. Sam tried to make the best of it, focusing on the opportunity to satisfy his weakness for both miniature desserts and vodka martinis, and as a result was usually drunk enough by the end of the evening to have had something like a good time. 

Steve and Bucky, however, had no patience for shareholder galas. Steve always said they was a waste of his time. Bucky was less diplomatic: the shareholders who bothered to attend were almost always the worst ones, who had made their money in the most exploitive ways, and who took pleasure in flaunting it. He had no desire to socialize with any of these people. And Steve and Bucky couldn't even follow Sam's example and blunt the sheer uselessness of the evening with alcohol. 

But tonight would be different. For once, they were not going to be the only sober ones at the party. Bucky would make sure of it.

 

**Last night**

He'd tried reasoning. He'd tried bargaining. He'd tried storming off in a huff. But Pepper was unrelenting: Bucky and Steve both had to come to the gala, and that was that. She didn't like the galas either, but they were ultimately to everyone's benefit, and everyone just had to hold their noses for a few hours on a semi-annual basis so that they could keep doing the work they wanted to do.

Bucky saw her rationale, of course, but he didn't have to like it. 

Which is why he was lurking outside Bruce's lab at 1:00 am. Lurking on the ceiling outside Bruce's lab, to be precise. He knew it was just Bruce in there now; Tony had been by earlier, but he'd already left. When Bucky heard equipment shutting off and footsteps headed towards the door, he shimmied up the walls of the narrow hallway and braced himself with his hands and feet, his back against the ceiling. 

Bruce strode out, looking lost in thought. Bucky dropped down silently behind him and slid into the lab before the doors closed and locked. He wasn't above using his skill set for selfish reasons now and again - and besides, it wasn't as if he was taking the entire sample. Bruce would still have plenty to study. Bucky just needed enough for himself and Steve.

 

Steve was better at feigning interest than Bucky was, probably from all the time he'd spent on the propaganda train. Bucky used to be able to smile and nod his way through unpleasant social interactions too, but it just wasn't worth it anymore. The "I didn't survive decades of Hydra bullshit for this" feeling would creep in, and before he knew it he'd end up insulting someone. The role of Cap's antisocial but doting partner was much easier to play, and barely required any acting.

At this particular moment, Steve was giving former Manhattan city council member Mike Giordano his best polite Captain America smile.

"And was I going to turn down that much money to look the other way when the OSHA violations came in? Three quarters of a million dollars and less work to do? In the late 80s?" He clapped Steve on the shoulder. Steve's smile grew brittle. "No siree! Ah, those were the days."

Bucky scanned the room for a way out. It was either that or punch this guy.

A champagne-bearing server was making her way towards them across the ballroom. Bucky pretended to listen to the conversation while tracking her progress out of the corner of his eye. Judging by the number of flutes remaining on her tray and the number of drinkless partygoers between her current location and the hors d'oeuvre table fifteen feet to their left, there would be enough flutes remaining by the time she was between them and the table. Opportunity. 

Bucky looked down, and pretended to notice for the first time that the little plate Steve held was nearly empty. He put on his best long-suffering-spouse face.

"I told you to eat before we came here," he said fondly, and took the plate away. Giordano chuckled; Bucky heard him saying, 

"My wife's the same way, always worried I'm not eating - " as he turned and picked his way through the crowd towards the hors d'oeuvre table just in time to to intersect the server's path. 

"Champagne, sir?"

"Thank you, yes," he said, and took three flutes. One in his right hand, two in his left, metal fingers wrapped precisely around the narrow stems. 

He squeezed his ring finger just a little too hard and let the glass shatter, spilling champagne and broken glass onto his tux. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry -"

"Are you all right, sir? Here, take a napkin -"

"Thank you, so sorry - "

Steve appeared. Bucky smiled up at him.

"Can't take me anywhere, can you?" Bucky handed him one of the remaining glasses. "Help me clean up?" And he grabbed Steve's hand and strode towards the back of the ballroom, with its subtle "RESTROOMS" sign jutting out of the left-hand wall. Left turn, right turn, and damned if the bathrooms in this hotel weren't as fancy as the rest of the place - the kind with the little antechamber of pointless red armchairs, and a basket of toiletries on the counter next to the sinks. Real towels and everything. 

Steve leaned against the marble counter and breathed a sigh of relief. 

"That wasn't as subtle as it could have been, but thank you _so much_. That guy is disgusting." Steve shivered a little.

"Anytime." Bucky couldn't stop himself from smiling. 

"I feel like we've been here for an eternity already - how much longer until we can leave, do you think? Natasha still hasn't bailed, so I guess we're stuck a while longer." He looked over at Bucky, lounging against the opposite wall and delicately rolling his champagne glass back and forth in his metal hand. "What are you so happy about? You hate these things even more than I do."

"I came prepared tonight."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Part of why this is terrible is because we have to watch everyone else get drunk and stupid while we stand around pretending to have fun. Insult to injury. Right?"

"That and wasting an evening sucking up to people who represent everything that's wrong with the world." Steve crossed his arms, petulant. 

"Wouldn't it be more tolerable if we could do what Sam and Clint and everyone else does, and just drown our sorrows for a few hours?" Bucky reached into his pocket and palmed the vials. He lifted his glass. "But this won't work on us." 

Steve groaned a little. 

"Yeah, I'm well aware."

Bucky stepped forward and pressed close against him, opening his hand to reveal the vials of purple liquid. "Steve. _This_ will work. This'll work on us. Or, you know. It should." Steve peered down at Bucky's hand between them. 

"Bucky, what the hell?"

"From that lab we busted last month. I….liberated these. For tonight."

"You brought _Hydra drugs_ to Stark's party? And you want to _take them?_ Are you insane?"

"Probably. But I've seen what they do, ok? I've seen what just about every substance we brought back does. This isn't one of the scary ones." 

" _Hydra_ drugs that aren't scary. Seriously."

"Seriously. I used to see some of the scientists take this one themselves; it made them all relaxed and happy. They may has well have developed it just for their own amusement." That wasn't strictly true, but close enough; Bucky had seen dozens more Hydra scientists take it than prisoners. Making captives so blissed out that they'd spill their intel wasn't exactly Hydra's style. "And even if it's terrible, it's not like it'll last more than a few hours anyway, right? With the metabolisms we've got?" Steve picked up one of the vials and considered it. "And if it _is_ terrible, hey! We get to say we're sick, and leave early! Win-win!" 

"You're a bad influence. I shouldn't be letting you talk me into this." 

" _I'm_ the bad influence? The tables sure have turned, then." Bucky leaned forward to set his glass on the counter next to Steve's, stealing a kiss on his way. He unscrewed the vials and poured the purple liquid into their champagne glasses. "There. Now it looks like we've just got kirs."

"Kirs, really? Do I even know you?" 

"Bottoms up, babe. Let's hope this works."

"And doesn't kill us."

"Either this'll kill us, or Pepper will. Cheers." 

Bucky downed his in one huge swallow, just in time to hear the door swing open and to see a gray-haired man in a white dinner jacket lope through. He reached up and pretended to fix Steve's tie until the dinner jacket man was out of sight and they could hear him unzipping to pee.

"This tastes terrible," Steve hissed, grimacing. He'd only managed to swallow half his glass. "Come on." He pulled Bucky out of the bathroom and back into the hallway, dumping the rest of his champagne concoction into a potted plant.

"Hey!" Bucky said, "I would've drunk that." He would have, too. 

"Come on," Steve said again. "I need to get this taste out of my mouth. And I want at least one cannoli before Sam eats them all again." Sam had stationed himself next to a dessert table against the far wall and was working his way through a pyramid of miniature cannoli with fierce, territorial determination. A woman in a glittery blue gown walked by and took one one. Sam gave her the side-eye. 

_Plenty of better uses for your mouth than cannoli_ , Bucky thought. _Wait, what?_ A group of mustachioed men with honest-to-god pocketwatches on chains laughed near them; the sound echoed in Bucky's head.

"Back off, Rogers," Sam said as they approached. "I know what you're after, but these are _all mine_."

"Your sugar-to-booze ratio must be off tonight, Wilson," Steve said. "Maybe sharing will make you feel better, hm?" He reached for a cannoli with tiny chocolate chips on its ends. Bucky didn't even know they made chocolate chips that small. The future sure was a weird place sometimes. Weird place. He found that he was rubbing his hands together; the subtle texture of his metal hand felt unreasonably nice on his right palm. The little ridges sent pleasant waves radiating all the way up to his head and down to his groin, tingling around and around. He shivered a little, adjusting. The room seemed warmer than it had before. He became suddenly aware that he wearing a lot of clothes.

"No sharing! No!" Steve had succeed in getting Sam to crack a smile, and now the two of them were swatting at each other like little kids. Steve held his small cannoli over his head, just out of Sam's reach; Sam leapt for it and knocked Steve back into Bucky, who giggled at the impact. Impact. Pow! Like in the comic books. But Sam and Steve were real, definitely real, and now Steve had Sam in a headlock, holding him captive with one arm while he savored his victory cannoli, eating his small dessert in very small bites, and there were some very fancy people nearby looking at them disapprovingly, probably whispering to each other that this was why their stock had gone down recently, that Captain America was all very well but these others couldn't be trusted; I hear that one can fly; not if he keeps eating like that he can't; derisive laughter all around. 

It came to Bucky's attention that Steve and Sam were back on peaceful terms now. Sam had a drink in his hand, and they were speculating about Tony's whereabouts. Sam's suit was a great color. Why hadn't Bucky noticed Sam's suit before? Dark red, like red wine. Sam always had good suits. 

The room throbbed. Bucky's cock, half-hard, throbbed with it. How long had it been since they'd left the bathroom? Long enough, apparently; this purple stuff didn't fuck around. Steve didn't seem to be on board like Bucky was, though; Steve was carrying on with Sam like everything was normal. 

Steve had ricotta on his lip.

"Steve," Bucky whispered, leaning in close. "You have some…" but it seemed easier to just take care of it than to explain it, and Steve, like the ricotta, looked delicious, so Bucky leaned in and sucked Steve's lip into his mouth. _God_ that felt good. Tasted good too. Bucky's jaw ached; his mouth suddenly felt very empty, like Steve's lips were just a tease, and then Steve's hands were on his chest, pushing him gently away - 

"Bucky," Steve said. "Hold on -" but Steve's mouth wasn't for talking right now, oh no no, it was for Bucky to enjoy, so he dove back in and kissed him again, hungrily, getting his tongue involved, and _wow_ that was a good idea; tongues were _great_ , tongues could do so many more things than lips could; his whole face felt like it was glowing and his mouth was so hot - 

"Not enough," Bucky panted, slouching into Steve. Steve grabbed him by the shoulders and shook until Bucky, eyes glazed, looked him in the face. Bucky's world had narrowed to the waves of tingling heat radiating all over him, and Steve's delicious lips.

"Is this what that stuff was supposed to do?" Steve asked. 

_Fuck me_ , Bucky thought, and then was unsure whether or not he'd said it out loud, so he said, 

"I want -" but he couldn't get out any more than that; he just twisted Steve's tie around his hand and tried to pull Steve's face back into his own, tried to slot their legs together to give his aching cock some relief against Steve's thigh.

"Whoa, man, maybe not right here -" Sam's voice came out of nowhere, and oh, Sam was delicious too. All of his friends were delicious. Bucky leaned towards where Sam's voice had come from and tried to nuzzle into that gorgeous red suit, tried to get at the heat underneath it, but he was still hanging onto Steve's tie, too, and Sam smelled so good, and why was Bucky wearing so _fucking_ much clothing? He let go of both Steve and Sam, ripped off his own tie, and started unbuttoning his shirt.

Steve, meanwhile, had started to go pink. He was fidgeting with his cufflinks, rubbing his hands together like Bucky had just a few minutes ago. His eyes looked huge.

"Bucky," he said. "Come with me." 

The crowd parted - when had a crowd formed? why were all those people whispering to each other? - and Steve dragged Bucky back from whence they came, back toward the bathroom. It was forever away, and the lights were brighter than they needed to be. There were so very, very many people with their stupid fancy outfits and their stupid leering faces, and then they were in the hallway and hey, look, that plant had a flower now! 

Then they were in the bathroom again. Steve slammed Bucky against the wall of the little vestibule and shoved his tongue into his mouth. 

"What the _fuck_ was that stuff," Steve panted, and then dove back in and yes, this was good, this was what needed to happen. Steve had Bucky trapped against the wall in the best kind of way, pinning his shoulders back while Bucky swiveled his hips down into Steve's thigh, rutting into him as he sucked on Steve's tongue. Steve had him plastered to the wall, and Bucky tried to ride him back just as hard.

"Buck, this is not what we're supposed to be doing," Steve said, grinding into him. Bucky gasped. "We can't - we have to go back -" 

Steve's mouth was gone now, and he was saying words. Steve's mouth was gone, and Bucky was suddenly bereft; his mouth was so _goddamn_ empty. He struggled against Steve's grip, grappling with Steve's arms, and then fabric tore and Bucky had his hands under Steve's sleeves, running up his arms to his shoulders, and oh _wow_ , Steve's _skin_. There was so much more of him under here, and Bucky wanted all of it. 

He grabbed the torn edges of Steve's jacket and shirt together and ripped upwards, baring Steve's shoulder and chest, struggling momentarily with the lapels before they succumbed to the strength of his metal hand, and then tuxedo studs flew everywhere and Bucky dropped to his knees and pressed his face into Steve's bare stomach. He groaned. 

Bucky nuzzled his face back and forth, and felt the contact radiating pleasure up into his skull, felt his cock start to leak. Bucky's head was buzzing; Steve felt hot against his face and was breathing hard above him. He opened his mouth and ran his lips over Steve's abs, tracing their definition, tasting them, holding Steve's hips to stop him from shuddering so much. 

"Bucky, please - _please_ -" Steve's hands joined Bucky's at his own waist, fumbling with his cummerbund. 

_Oh hell yes_ , Bucky thought as Steve's pants dropped. This was the answer to all of his problems. 

He grabbed Steve's hips and pulled, shoving Steve's cock straight into the back of his throat. Steve moaned loudly and fell forwards to brace himself on the wall, feet as far apart as his pants around his ankles would allow, clutching at the wall so hard that chips of paint and drywall dusted the top of Bucky's head. Bucky was overwhelmed; the tingling pleasure at running his lips over Steve's stomach was _nothing_ to this. His whole body was hot, he felt like he was glowing, throbbing; he forced his throat deeper around Steve's cock and groaned around it; he needed _more_.

"Bucky, _fuck_ ," Steve said. He slid his hips back, panting - no, no, this wasn't right, Bucky needed more, not less. Bucky grabbed Steve's ass and forced his cock back deep into his mouth, sucking hard. Steve shouted and pushed his hips forward to follow, slamming Bucky's head into the wall. The impact echoed, and more drywall rained from the crater Bucky's head had created. Bucky gripped Steve's ass and Steve rolled his hips, pinning Bucky's head to the wall, fucking into his mouth deep and hard and _god_ , it was so good. His eyes closed; there was nothing to feel except for Steve's cock grinding into his throat and his own cock straining against his tuxedo pants. He dropped a hand down and started squeezing himself in time with Steve's thrusts.

"This," Steve said, "This - did you mean for this - the party - oh, _fuck_ -"

Bucky dimly remembered that they'd been doing something before this, but he didn't care. His head was pressed into the wall and his mouth was getting fucked and he was groaning around Steve's cock. There was nothing else. 

"You said 'relaxed,'" Steve growled, picking up his pace. Bucky moaned louder and squeezed Steve's ass harder with his metal hand, urging him on. "You said, you said; fuck, _Bucky_ , this is _not relaxed_." He came, shouting, into Bucky's throat, but his hips didn't stop even as Bucky swallowed around him. Steve was still hard, still fucking Bucky's mouth just as desperately as he had been before, and now he was tearing at Bucky's suit jacket. His _clothes_. The hell with his clothes. 

Bucky shoved Steve off of him to tear his jacket and shirt over his head. Steve, hobbled by the pants still around his ankles, careened sideways into one of the red armchairs. He failed to catch himself and thrust his arm through the cushion, and immediately freed himself by flinging the armchair across the room. It hit the door, slamming it shut. Steve turned and looked back at Bucky, wide-eyed. 

"Oh _no_ ," he whispered.

Bucky was wrestling with the knife holster on his hip, failing to get it undone, and rubbing at his crotch through his pants. Steve was so far away and he felt empty and desperate again. He squeezed his cock, hard, and groaned loudly.

"Come back," he panted. He rolled onto his stomach and ground into the floor; not enough, not enough.

"Bucky, the door was _open_ ," Steve said. "Nooo, no no no." He crawled over to a second armchair and stacked it onto the broken one he'd thrown. "Those people are _not_ getting in here." He threw a third armchair on top of the first two, looked around, and pushed a little end table into the pile.

"Steve, come _back_ ," Bucky said again. He lunged across the floor, grabbed the bundle of pants between Steve's feet, and hauled Steve bodily back across the room, into the main part of the bathroom.

"Bucky, wait - "

But there was no waiting, no, just _need_ , so Bucky straddled Steve's legs and poured himself back onto Steve's cock, licking and sucking like he'd been starved for it.

" _Bucky_ ," Steve panted, "I have to - we can't just - _augh_ , god, _don't stop_ ," like stopping was even an option. He thrust his cock upwards, deeper into Bucky's mouth, and Bucky was _never_ going to stop, never. He spread his legs and ground his aching cock into Steve's thigh, desperate, groaning, and Steve was moaning too, grabbing at Bucky's hair, his shoulders, his ass. 

Steve shoved his fingers under Bucky's waistband, and oh, _yeah_. Bucky arched back, rolling his hips, trying to get Steve's hand deeper down the back of his pants, but it just wasn't going. He growled, frustrated, and pressed his cock harder into Steve's leg. Steve had gotten his other hand involved now, as if that was going to help, but Bucky's waistband was just too tight with him spread out like this. 

Steve's hand disappeared, and through the throbbing pleasure of Steve's cock in his mouth, Bucky dimly felt Steve fumbling with his knife holster. 

Suddenly Bucky felt the back of his pants pulled taut, and felt a smooth tug as Steve used Bucky's own knife to slice up the back of his pants. Bucky felt the sudden shove of Steve's cock deep into his throat as Steve sat up to rend the fabric apart. 

"Oh, yes, yes," Steve moaned, sliding his hand into the gaping tear, down over Bucky's ass, and shoving his hand down between Bucky's asscheeks, rubbing at the back of his balls and spreading him wide one-handed to get his fingers at Bucky's hole. Bucky groaned; he felt hot, and Steve's hand felt perfect and warm and not enough.

"You're slick, Buck," Steve gasped. "How?" Bucky made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. He didn't care; he wanted Steve inside him _now_ , and _ah_ , yes, there were Steve's fingers pushing into him, two at once. He rolled his hips back up into Steve's hand, trying to force him deeper. Steve bent his wrist and Bucky moaned loudly as Steve's fingers slid all the way inside him. 

"So wet, oh god -" Steve threw his head back and canted his hips up, fucking into Bucky's mouth with his cock and into Bucky's ass with his fingers. Bucky was breathing hard, grinding his cloth-covered cock into Steve's leg; he felt an electric feedback loop of pleasure radiating through everywhere he was being fucked. He shuddered. Steve's fingers sped up, working him faster, deeper, harder through the tear in his pants, and Bucky rutted just as hard against Steve's leg. Bucky's moans around Steve's cock became higher pitched, and suddenly he was groaning and choking and coming all over himself with his face speared on Steve's cock. 

Bucky spit out Steve's dick. He took a few unsteady, wet breaths before crawling up Steve's body to press his still-hard, still pants-covered cock into Steve's naked one. He mouthed at Steve's neck. His lips were tingling and so very sensitive. Steve's skin was hot and delicious. 

"Ah, yes," Steve breathed, using his fingers inside Bucky's ass to pin him closer in and grind up into him. Bucky panted into Steve's neck. He rode Steve as Steve rutted up into him, holding him tight with fingers inside his ass, until Steve slammed his head back into the floor so hard he left a crater and came again. Bucky rolled his ass back into Steve's hand. 

Steve was still hard under him.

"Fuck me, fuck me, I want your cock, _fuck me_ ," he panted.

Steve's eyes widened, like he had yet to think of this idea himself. He looked side to side, seeming only then to notice that he was naked and on the floor.

"Here? But this is - "

"You barricaded the door." Bucky's sense of time was fuzzy, but Steve did that, right? Steve definitely did that.

"I barricaded the door."

"You barricaded the door, _fuck me_."

"I need to - " Steve slid his fingers out, and kneaded at Bucky's ass with both hands. "Oh, you feel _amazing_." Steve nuzzled up into Bucky's neck and nibbled. The little bites tingled out across Bucky's neck and down his back, and he rolled his hips again. 

"Please, please Steve, please - " 

"I need to - _ah, god_ \- but nobody's watching the door, I need to - Bucky, up." Steve rolled Bucky off of him and stood. "Come on, _up_." Bucky had gone back to writhing against the floor, but Steve grabbed the waistband of his torn tuxedo pants and hoisted him upright, bending him facedown over the bathroom counter. "This is good, okay, I can see, and _fuck_ , Bucky, you're _delicious_." 

Steve slid his fingers into the tear at the back of Bucky's pants, cupping and groping and squeezing. Bucky wriggled back against him, empty and desperate. 

"Please, please." He felt a finger dip into his ass. "More, please, Steve - " The push this time was thicker, probably several fingers at once - Bucky couldn't tell, but he pushed back gratefully. " _Ah, yes_." He dug his metal fingers deep into the countertop, gripping into the marble for leverage as he fucked himself back onto Steve's hand. He felt Steve's cock pressing against the back of his thigh. Bucky arched back into him, moaning and whining. 

Steve started to withdraw his fingers.

"More," Bucky gasped, "Don't - please, more -" 

Steve's fingers stopped moving, and Bucky felt the head of Steve's cock nudge against him. 

" _Oh_. Fuck, _yes_ , oh, god," Steve said, and then his cock shoved into Bucky alongside his fingers and Bucky was stretched so, so wide, he was so full and it was amazing, it was _everything_. A loud noise echoed around the bathroom and Bucky realized it was his own voice, screaming and moaning. 

" _Shh_ ," Steve said sharply, and shoved into him deeper still. Bucky heard the admonition but it barely registered; Steve was tearing his moans out of him and all he could do was press his face into the counter and let himself be split open and fucked. 

Bucky felt himself being hauled upwards, and _oh_ , that was a new angle of everything in his ass. He caught a hazy glimpse of them in the mirror, just long enough to see Steve's free hand holding one of their discarded cummerbunds, and then a wad of fabric was forced into his mouth and Steve's hand clamped over his face, and _jesus christ Steve_. His moans were vaguely muffled as Steve held the makeshift gag in place and shoved into him over and over and over. The counter jolted under the onslaught of their bodies. Bucky's head lolled against Steve's shoulder as he let the pleasure wash over him. He was helpless and it was amazing; he was pinned and held and warm and full and his whole body was vibrating, thrumming, radiating. Steve pounded into him hard, pushing his fingers in. Steve's breath was breath quick and heavy in Bucky's ear, the sweat between them sticking and sliding. 

Suddenly, a banging. A new noise. Banging.

No, not banging.

 _Knocking._

Bucky's eyes flew open; in the mirror he saw Steve staring in terror. Steve let go of his face. 

" _No_ ," Steve whispered. "No, no - " he pulled out of Bucky abruptly. Suddenly empty, Bucky fell forward, shattering the mirror with his metal hand in an attempt to catch himself. Steve grabbed him and spun him around. "Bucky, we have to get _out of here_." The knocking grew louder, and there was a scraping noise. Steve's tower of chairs shifted. 

"Mmp -" Bucky pulled the cummerbund out of his mouth. "Come here -" he tried to wrap his arms around Steve's neck, but Steve slithered away and was scoping out the room, shuffling a little with his pants still around his ankles. He tapped at the walls, looked into the toilet stalls, examined the baseboards.

Then he stopped. 

"We're going through the ceiling," he said. 

"Okay," Bucky replied.

Steve hopped up to sit on the counter, got up on his knees, and whacked at the ceiling. 

"Got to be a duct in here somewhere." 

Steve's torso was at eye level, so gorgeous and delicious-looking that he practically glowed, so Bucky wrapped his hands over Steve's hipbones. 

"Mmm." Steve paused, distracted again, one hand on the ceiling. His eyes started to drift closed.

Another scraping noise came from the direction of the bathroom door, and some muffled shouting. "What in the hell is going on in there" and "Security" seemed to feature.

"Bucky wait, _wait_ , we have to get out of here." 

"Sure." Bucky didn't take his hands off Steve, though; why would he do that? Steve was so gorgeous. 

" _Bucky_. Right there." Steve pointed to a spot in the ceiling. "We need to go through there." 

"Okay," Bucky said again, and hopped up to join Steve on the counter. He felt it shift a little under their weight as he kneeled up. He eyed the ceiling carefully, then punched straight through plaster and drywall into the vent above them. 

He shoved pieces of hanging sheetrock out of the way, and then heaved himself up into the hole. 

"Come on." He offered an arm. Steve took it, and Bucky started to haul him up.

"Wait," Steve said, hanging partway out of the vent. "Pants -" he kicked, wrestling them off his feet as Bucky lifted him. His foot, still in its patent leather shoe, struck the countertop once, twice, and went straight through. The broken marble crashed to the floor, cracking the tile below. Steve's tuxedo pants, finally free, flopped over the pile.

Bucky squeezed his arm around Steve's chest and hoisted him the rest of the way into the duct. He didn't let go once they were in, just wrapped himself around Steve big-spoon-style and pushed backwards with his heels to wedge them further down the vent. Front-to-back like this, there was just enough space for the both of them - and Steve was _so_ warm and nice. Bucky nuzzled his neck, and nibbled at his ear. Steve giggled.

A crash resounded from below, followed by several angry voices.

"Jesus fucking christ, what happened in here?"

"Look at the mirror!"

"Is that a shirt? Oh my god, are those _pants?_ "

"Keep going," said Steve, so Bucky held him tight and pushed with his heels, driving them headfirst down the vent. They reached a quick succession of T-junctions; left, left, and then right. The indignant noises below them receded, and Bucky brought them to a stop. 

Steve was still warm and nice, and the confinement of the vent was like a blanket all around them; everything throbbed, hot and dark and close. Bucky undulated against Steve, mouth open against the back of his neck. Steve moaned softly. Bucky slid a hand down, down Steve's torso to wrap around his cock, and Steve moaned louder. The sound bounced off the walls of the vent and disappeared. Bucky pressed his cock against Steve's ass, and Steve ground back into him. 

There wasn't much they could do in this small space, but that somehow made it more intense - the confinement restricting their movements to a concerted grinding and jerking and writhing, back and forth and back and forth, panting and sweating and groaning and shaking. Bucky stroked Steve's cock faster; Steve sped up the thrust of his hips back into Bucky's, driving each other into a frenzy. Back and forth, back and forth. 

 

In the ballroom, Sam looked on drunkenly as the chairwoman of the Stark Industries board took the podium. Something had happened with profits; something else had expanded. Applause seemed expected, but it was hard enough to keep from spilling his martini as it was, so Sam opted not to join in.

A small commotion was underway at the back of the ballroom. Sam turned to see a group of people indignantly brushing something off themselves and looking up. Pieces of paint seemed to be flaking off the ceiling - or was it pieces of the ceiling itself? Definitely pieces of the ceiling, Sam decided, as a huge crack appeared. Pity he didn't have his wings with him, or he could fly up to investigate. 

With the unpleasant scraping sound of metal on metal, a very naked Steve Rogers and a mostly naked Bucky Barnes erupted out of the ceiling and crashed through a table. Partygoers screamed and ran for the exits; a few whipped out their phones and took pictures. Amid the shouting and chaos, Sam saw Steve pull Bucky out the wreckage and push him towards the front of the ballroom. They streaked through the pandemonium into the lobby, out the front door of the hotel and into the night.

Sam raised his glass in an unsteady toast. 

"Thanks, you crazy bastards," he said.

**Author's Note:**

> No insult intended to any actual members of the New York City Council! I also played a little fast and loose with both the construction of ceilings and the behavior of publicly traded companies; apologies if that's irksome.


End file.
